The Long and Short of It
by Dr. Fluffmuffin
Summary: Oneshots centered around Lloyd and his family.
1. Chapter 1

**I own nothing but the story.**

* * *

Looking back, it wasn't a very good life. When he did choose to look at life backwards instead of forwards, Garmadon found that most of his life was a winter that burned like hellfire, and that throughout most of it, he'd been screaming. The good moments were few and far in between, so he sought them as much as he could. Whatever he did find, he considered more valuable than emeralds, both in rarity and preciousness.

The little jewels they created he wore close to his heart, so that he'd always a way to look back at them, to clutch them in times of trouble. It was both a comfort and a necessity, and he yearned for a day to come when his jewels would grow so numerous he wouldn't know what to do with them.

Since the venom had been purged from his veins, and he'd spent more time with Lloyd and Misako, his jewels had indeed grown larger, but he guarded them like a dragon its gold, so that he wouldn't lose them. While he now had many memories he could swap out, perhaps replace, he still held on to older ones, because he found he remembered them just as fondly as he did newer ones, a fact Lloyd found out one morning.

Garmadon always did like sunrises; they offered what he felt was a reflection of his own life, in that the night only got darker until dawn's first sun rays chased the night away. They were important to him, so every morning, he made a habit of rising in time to sit in a wooden rocking chair, a cup of coffee in his hand so that he could watch the sky come alive with color and the world from slumber.

Some mornings, Misako would join him, other days Lloyd, and sometimes both of them at once. On one such morning Lloyd stumbled out of the monastery pajama clad and holding an entire pot of coffee in his hand. He sat with a plop upon the stone floor next to the wooden bands of Garmadon's chair, staring out and sipping slowly, slurping slightly, but caring not.

Garmadon smiled.

For a while, all was quiet, as was typical of these tranquil mornings, but as the birds began to chirp and the wooded critters began to chatter, Lloyd initiated a conversation. It, like many of their morning babbles, consisted of simple but sweet topics that never failed to make Garmadon smile and think about how lucky he was to have something like this.

Today, their conversation brought them to an odd question. Or, at least, odd to Garmadon.

"Do you have any good memories of me?" said Lloyd, nearly causing Garmadon to start right there, before he turned and finished the question, "When you were still evil?"

In spite of himself, Garmadon frowned, "Of course I do. What makes you think I don't?"

Lloyd shrugged, turned his gaze to the floor, "It just seems like, before the Final Battle, all I ever did was fight you."

"Hm," Garmadon sat back, "That's true, but that is far from saying that all my memories of you are bad," he unconsciously ran his fingers along his clavicle, where his necklace of jewels would hang, had they any form, "I would say that my list of 'bad' memories of you, or, where you were the cause, is so low it can hardly be considered a list."

Lloyd still looked down, and Garmadon stared at him, noting his face, his stature. He wasn't upset, merely thoughtful, doubtful, perhaps. Garmadon couldn't have that.

"You want to know my favorite memory of you that I have from when I was evil?"

Lloyd looked up in an instant, curiosity blooming in his eyes and a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Garmadon sat forward and leaned an elbow against the chair's armrest, a grin on his face and his eyes going into a faraway gaze as his mind conjured a gem to hold against the morning light so that it could glitter.

"It was when we were rescuing you from the Serpentine in that volcano."

"Oh," Lloyd interrupted almost immediately, and this was when Garmadon knew that his boy had indeed turned into a teenager. He sounded almost disappointed as he uttered his next words, "I suppose I should have guessed that; it was a good experience for most everybody."

Garmadon chuckled, "Let me finish. Most of that memory was actually very bad, son."

Lloyd stared at him.

"You were in danger; if there's ever any bad memories I have with you in it, it is when you are in danger. No, I'm talking about one moment in particular. It was when," Garmadon looked to the sun again, "I pulled that cage out of the lava, and you jumped forward and gave me the biggest bear hug."

A new expression spread over Lloyd's features as something between understanding and joy coursed through him. Garmadon chuckled again as he stared at the visage.

"Do you know why?"

Lloyd shook his head.

"It's because that was the first hug I'd gotten in over a decade, Lloyd," his son's jaw dropped, "and the fact that it got to come from you made it all the better."

"No—" Lloyd huffed a laugh, "no way!"

Garmadon nodded, "It's true. I hadn't been touched in any way other than violence before that hug."

"Are you serious?"

Garmadon nodded, and laughed as another, older memory resurfaced, one not quite as good, but not bad, and certainly worth a tell while they were on the subject. "There several years where I was hardly touched at all. Hardly even a tap on the shoulder, or a poke in the back."

Lloyd turned around completely, pulling his knees to his chest and staring with all the earnestness of a young child, making Garmadon question his earlier conclusion of his son's mental age.

"Back when I first ruled the Underworld," Garmadon began, "when I'd overthrown Samukai, there was a long time where there weren't really any rules. If I needed something done, I merely demanded it, rather than bother with making laws or regulations. For a while, this worked. Then one day, a little Skulkin came up to me and said, 'Sir, I've never met a being with flesh on his bones. Do you mind if I touch it and see what it's like?'"

Lloyd snorted.

"Being relatively naïve at the time," Garmadon shook his head, "I offered an arm for him to touch, figuring, 'what harm could this possibly do?' Every Skulkin within the vicinity joined in."

Lloyd let out a full laugh this time.

"Thus, my first official law was born," he held out a hand and made block letters in the air, "'Thou shalt not touch me.'"

He'd even had it inscribed in stone, so that no one could ever forget. Lloyd chortled merrily, eating his story up like candy. Garmadon smiled.

"Anything after that was either the result of a fight or a mistake."

"Ha," Lloyd wiped the corner of an eye. There was a pause, where he said, "So that hug really was something, huh?"

"Of course," said Garmadon, sipping from his now cool mug, "Don't you think for a second that I hold any memories where you're painted a villain. You're the reason I have as many good memories as I do."

Indeed, it was true, more than Lloyd would ever know. His son was silent, his gaze turning towards the sun, until at last he smiled. He stood, and, upon an instance of contemplation, gave his dad a one armed hug before taking himself indoors. Garmadon watched him go, fingers still turning over each other as he thought of those memories, those small moments where the world took a moment to calm down and smile at him.

Lloyd hugged him significantly more often after that, most times when he least expected it. Each of them would make his day. Over time, his collection of good memories grew larger and larger, to the point where their numbers lined more with those of the common quartz, but in his mind they were no less valuable, and he guarded them with the same potency he did in the past. They were more common indeed, but that was just how he liked it.

* * *

 **So season eight of Ninjago was a roller coaster with no seatbelts, and because of that I've decided to have a story full of goodness rather than trauma-inducing crap that really should leave Lloyd sobbing alone in a corner. This will basically just be a series of one-shots centered around the Garmadon family (the Garmafamily, if you will :D), and I will try to keep it mainly lighthearted. I'll certainly dip my toes into the angst pool, but don't expect anything to be overly dark.**

 **That being said, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Have a nice day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I own nothing but the story.**

* * *

There weren't too many things that alarmed Lloyd anymore. As a child-turned-teenager with far too many battles under his belt, his outlook on the world had gone from surprise to something more akin to a heavy sigh and a shrug. Life was weird; he may as well just accept it.

Garmadon changed this mindset on one hot afternoon in the summertime, if for a moment.

Upon walking inside the monastery, soaked with sweat and puffing out fumes from hours of training, what should his ears first hear but the sounds of song echoing out of the little kitchen hidden in the building's living quarters.

It was a happy song, one Lloyd had heard his father sing before to his other children—or as they were more commonly known, the ninja.

 _"Well, will you look who's here? Has it been a year? Honey come on in!"_

Lyrics depicting a big "confabulation," with plenty of jokes and gin echoed towards Lloyd, and he stopped, eyebrow quirked and a little off-put. His father was singing, singing in a joyful way.

Not that that was a bad thing, but it was strange. Garmadon was a mild mannered person; all those years spent as a super villain had run his emotional wells dry, and while he still carried those feelings of intense joy and sadness Lloyd knew he had, Garmadon kept them to himself, instead expressing his more superficial feelings through a layer of dry wit that everyone had come to appreciate.

To hear him jolly enough to be singing was enough to catch Lloyd off guard, and after listening a moment longer, he wandered over to the sound's source, finding Garmadon happily stirring away at a pot of something dark, the kitchen around him a mess of bowls, plates, and utensils, singing all the while,

 _"It's terrific you're here, we're fresh out of beer, but there's plenty of gin!"_

In turning to grab his red-checked oven mit, Garmadon spotted his son lurking in the kitchen archway, and he proceeded to smile, "Lloyd!" he greeted, eyes twinkling with mirth, "I'm glad you're here; I have a special mission for you!"

"Do..." Lloyd looked over his father in quiet bewilderment, "Do you need beer?"

Garmadon chuckled, walking forward and giving him a pat on the back as he explained, "Your mother is down in the village's archives, and I need you to make sure she stays there until sundown, alright?"

Lloyd examined some of the foods his father was making, finding the pots and pans filled with grotesque, unidentifiable shapes of mostly black matter, some alien, others merely messed up versions of normal comestibles.

"What for?" he replied.

Garmadon laughed again, excited like Lloyd had ever seen him excited before, "My son, tonight I am going to give your mother the most romantic meal she's had in years!"

Lloyd couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at that. "Huh?"

Garmadon went back to the stove, stirring the bubbling pot with zeal. "It's been years, son! Years since I've given her a good, old fashioned, romantic evening. She loves them, you know," he cast his son a side smile, "She may seem no nonsense on the surface, but she loves it when I turn on the charm. Just fix a nice meal, present her with meaningful trinkets, and she goes swooning!"

"You're going to be romantic?" Lloyd questioned, a laugh escaping his lips. Despite knowing his parents had married for a reason, he never expected Garmadon to be anything near even a vague definition of romantic. Needless to say, he was curious.

"How're you going to do that?"

Without taking his eyes off his task, Garmadon waved an arm in a sweeping gesture across the kitchen, "Take a look, son! I'm going to get all dressed up, and I'll welcome her home, and then I'll give her a meal worthy of the empress she is!"

A grimace ghosted over Lloyd's face as he examined the strange mixes of meals once again. "You're going," he said, "to feed her... _this?"_

A tumble sounded as Garmadon mishandled his spoon. Lloyd's tone, if not statement, had struck a chord. "I am," he looked back, "What's wrong with this? These are some of the finest dishes I learned in my time in the underworld."

Lloyd released a hum, disproving. Garmadon placed a hand on his hip, the spoon sticking out and away like a sore thumb. "You think you are too good for your father's cooking?"

He had a look on his face that told Lloyd that any further complaint would send him personally taste-testing all these bizarre, "dishes."

But Lloyd thought himself clever. If there was anything he learned at Darkly's, it was how to weasel out of sticky situations. He just hoped his father wouldn't pick up on it.

He first looked away, pursing his lips and puffing out his cheeks. "Of course not," he said, "It's just—I don't know if any of this seems really _romantic_."

It was a half-distraction: something to get him out of a sticky situation, but serious in that he did want Garmadon to explain how meals made from the underworld were romantic. Garmadon wasn't really thinking of feeding Misako some of these foods, right? Certainly not the ones that moved?

His ploy worked, to an extent.

Garmadon turned back to his cooking, but he was considerably less engaged. "What would you know?" he said, sounding no more like an adult than Lloyd did, "You're an _infant_."

Lloyd laughed and leaned over the countertops. He watched his father work for a while longer. But Garmadon wasn't focused anymore; not five minutes after Lloyd spoke, he turned and said, a look of concern on his face, "Do you think she will not like it?"

Lloyd looked up and blinked, unsure of what to do. "Um..." he waited for his father to wave his hand and move past the question, but Garmadon continued to stare at him, gazing with an uncertainty that wouldn't be cleared by whatever answer Lloyd would choose to give. "I...don't know," said he. Garmadon's face fell a fraction, and Lloyd hurried to fix that, "I mean—I'm sure she'll like it, I just don't know if it'd be romantic."

Garmadon looked back at his pot, contemplative. Lloyd stared at his father's back, waiting for a response, and stood up straight when his father finally replied:

"It has been so long...do you know..." Garmadon had trouble phrasing his words, "do you know what she would think of as romantic?"

The abandoned pot of food bubbled over the top, sizzling as the contents evaporated against the stove. Lloyd didn't know the answer to that question; as Garmadon said, he was an "infant," after all.

But his father had this _look_ on his face, one that bled uncertainty in rivulets, and he didn't want that look to stay. No, he wanted to help his poor father out.

So with a puff of his chest, Lloyd said, "Don't worry, Father, I think I know what to do."

* * *

He ended up giving Kai a call, because Lloyd really had no idea what to do. The art of romance was an art Lloyd couldn't even doodle in, and Garmadon's methods were too abstract to understand. So he called his friend with a heavy sigh, hopeful and worried all at once. While Kai was the most romantic person Lloyd knew, he'd no idea if Kai practiced the standard form of it, or some bizarre copy that served only to make a fool out of everyone involved.

Kai surprised him, however. What he said when Lloyd asked seemed almost...legitimate, in his eyes. Kai ended up giving Lloyd an entire list of important steps for the perfect evening, which Lloyd transcribed on a sheet of paper and ran with on his way back to his father.

"I've got it!" he said, waving the sheet in the air as Garmadon scrubbed away the evidence of his underworldly dinner, "Only twenty seven simple steps, and you'll be the regular love god!"

Garmadon released a huff and a scoff, setting aside his pot and grabbing a new one, "I would hardly call a love god 'regular,' son," he scraped the food into the garbage in strips, "What are the steps?"

Lloyd looked at the sheet. "First things first, you gotta get all gussied up."

Garmadon nodded, saying with a smile, "I need not worry about that; I've already pulled out my finest gi."

"What about your hair?"

A frown, then, "Huh?"

Lloyd looked at his sheet. He'd starred the bulletpoint that read, "hair," for Kai had put so much emphasis on it. "Your hair," he repeated, "You have to style it, make it shine."

Garmadon halted his scrubbing long enough to look incredulous, "Why? My hair is well the way it is."

Why would Garmadon ask him that question? Lloyd was only reading off a sheet. He tried thinking back to what Kai had told him over the phone.

"Well..." he leaned against the countertops, "Don't you want to take pride in your appearance?"

His father dropped the next pot, "There's a reason I look as good as I do at this age," he paused, said next, "I'll comb it or something."

Lloyd nodded. That would work, he supposed. "Alright," he said, "The next step is flowers. You got to get her flowers."

Garmadon smiled this time, and pointed to a basket at the far end of the room, "Already have that covered," he said with pride.

Lloyd looked over, then back. "Dad," he said, "those are artichokes."

A deep, belly laugh erupted from Garmadon's throat, "There's a reason for that—"

"Vegetables aren't romantic, Dad."

"—your uncle was in love once, too, and when I asked him what flowers Misako liked—"

"Dad—"

"—he said artichokes to make a fool of me."

"Dad—"

"It worked against him, though. She fell over herself laughing. Now it's tradition—"

"Dad," Lloyd held the sheet up, "roses work best."

Garmadon squinted at the sheet. "Oh. Alright."

Lloyd nodded, and they continued onward. Kai turned out to have many specific ideas on how romance worked. Music was a must, and Lloyd had to add a jazz record underneath 'roses' on their miniature grocery list, because Garmadon's record of swing was unfit for the art of charming your significant other.

The perfect meal was also a must. Apparently, a shared plate of spaghetti was the most romantic way to go, because then each lover can chew either end of the noodle and meet in the middle, thus sharing the most romantic of kisses. The idea of it seemed nice in theory, or nice enough for Garmadon to agree with it.

Though that didn't stop him from finding fault, "Spaghetti is good, but it is a little messy for a kiss; would a long sandwich do?"

After this, he looked up to meet Lloyd's stare, a stare that provided enough of an answer for him to pull out a box of noodles without another word.

In truth, Lloyd didn't know whether or not a long sandwich would be a good substitute, but after picturing the situation with his mom on one end, his father on the other, he decided that out of all the words to describe _that_ , 'romance' was not one of them. So he continued, listing off the next steps a little faster.

A candlelit dinner was considered by everyone—in Kai's words—to be the most enchanting way to make your lover swoon, therefore dinner must be held in a dark room, preferably containing a window that allowed moonlight to leak in. The monastery did have one of these rooms, to Lloyd's pleasure and relief, but by dumb luck, the only moon that would appear in the sky that night was new moon, removing it from the equation. But it was alright—Lloyd assured his father—because the two tiny candles they placed at the table's center would be romantic enough.

Garmadon stared at these candles for what seemed an eternity. "I didn't realize," he said, "that eating in the dark was considered romantic."

"You won't be in the dark," Lloyd looked over his list of steps, wishing that his father would stop questioning it, "There'll be the candles."

"But how will I gaze into your mother's eyes?"

"You'll still be able to do that," Lloyd began to read off what Kai had told him, "The candles are just a mood setter, and they serve to 'light your lover's face in a way that accentuates all of their finest features'."

Garmadon put a hand to his face. "I have wrinkles. Candles will make the shadows deeper."

There was a silence. Lloyd cleared his throat, "Let's move on to the next step."

By this point, the remaining steps involved the date itself; things like, 'romantic speak,' and the always popular, 'romantic smolder.'

"Alright Dad," Lloyd grabbed a silver pan and placed it in his father's hands to gaze at, "I'm going to go to the store and pick up the roses and jazz. Until Mom gets home, practice your smolder, and think of romantic subjects to talk about at dinner."

Garmadon took one look at his reflection and turned away in disgust. "What good will this do me?"

"It makes you more attractive during dinner," Lloyd had read the list enough times that by now he considered himself an expert, "Causing your partner to be more enamored by you, and increasing the romantic tension as a whole."

Of course, as soon as Lloyd felt confident in what he was saying did his father choose to scrutinize him.

"Where are you getting this information from?" he said.

Lloyd bit the inside of his lip. "A reliable source." He pointed to the silver plate, "Just practice your smolder, Dad. Mom will love it. I promise it'll be the best evening ever."

He turned to go, but Garmadon bombarded him with yet another question. "Will I be alright if your mother comes home early?"

"Don't worry about that, either. I'll make sure you have enough time to set up before she gets back." Lloyd had made sure of it; he'd sent Kai to stall his mother until sundown, just as Garmadon had asked of him earlier that day. He left the monastery with a spring in his step, certain that this evening was going to be no less than a success.

This thought was dashed when he returned.

* * *

After he'd picked up the items he needed, Lloyd reentered the monastery and helped his father set up, hurrying to make everything perfect for when his mother arrived.

Garmadon did look nice. He'd attired himself with fine, if old, purple gi, and he'd combed his hair off to the side, looking sharp. Lloyd was pleased with how he looked; he hoped that it could be attributed to the list he'd so diligently put together.

The rest of the environment was another story. At worst it was strange and at best it was...dicey. The plate of spaghetti and sauce (Lloyd forgot to pick up meatballs) looked almost sinister at the table's center, lit only by two tiny candles. These candles did little to light the rest of the room, especially after the sun went down, and Lloyd was left with the impression that the 'romantic' setting looked more of a fortune teller's tent than anything. As he began to play the record of jazz, and the timorous notes of _Don't Scare Me Papa_ filled the room, the overall mood of the place was too chaotic to be anywhere near romantic. He found himself, for the first time since he picked up the phone, wondering if any of what Kai told him was accurate. By this point, he was too scared to think Kai wasn't, so he opted to cross his fingers and remain silent as he watched his mother arrived back to his awaiting father.

Her smile when Garmadon presented her with the dozen or so red roses was enough to relax his state of mind, but her confusion as he gave his energetic greeting and offered her an elbow only heightened it back again. This nervousness increased further when Misako's face went from smiling to bewildered as Garmadon took her into the darkened dinner room.

He couldn't help himself; he had to see how this was going to go. Using the doorframe as a cover, Lloyd peeked in at the couple. Garmadon struggled to find the chair he was supposed to pull out for Misako, and the candles did indeed make the lines on both of their faces appear all the more deeper. In fact, the light fell upon his father in such a way that Garmadon nearly looked villainous again.

Placing a finger to his teeth in worry, Lloyd tiptoed away and hurried off to give Kai a call.

"Hey man, how'd it go!?" was the first thing he heard.

It wasn't something he expected, and Lloyd would be lying if he said that dread didn't start eating away at his gut right then, "The date? It's just started, and...I need to ask you some questions."

"Wha—Why are you calling me in the middle of your date?" Kai said next.

A ball dropped into Lloyd's stomach. " _My_ date? This isn't _my_ date. It never was."

Kai was quiet before he answered, "Whose date was it, then?"

Dread pooled fast through him, "My mom and dad. I thought I told you."

All he heard was a slow inhale on the other end, and Lloyd suddenly had the need to curl up on his bed and rock back and forth. "That shouldn't change anything, should it?" said he, "Romance can be applied to anyone, right?" he spoke a little more urgently, "Those steps could turn anyone into a love god, right? Right? Please say right."

"I don't know," Kai sounded awful, "I find that it's best to let old people do their own thing."

 _Oh no._

 _Oh dear._

He had messed up. He'd messed up big time. Unable to think of a proper response, Lloyd huffed a harried, "My parents are not _old,"_ and hung up. Then he placed his forehead against the wall, wondering if it was possible to put his head through it.

He tried to assure himself that it wouldn't be bad, that his mother and father could still and probably are having no less than a pleasant evening, but the dread that tormented him was relentless. It was a gnawing feeling, one he wished he could shake, but he couldn't. With a sharp inhale, Lloyd wandered back to where his parents were eating, hoping and praying it was going well.

 _It might not be bad,_ he thought, _It might not be bad._ He peeked into the room.

The candles were low, the spaghetti only half eaten, the plate set aside. Misako had her hands in her lap, and she sat back in her chair, as though in a permanent state of surprise. Lloyd looked at her face, cringing as he saw it looked something halfway between laughter and utter confusion. His mother didn't get confused, so the sight alone was jarring. Though, as he continued to spy on his family, he found he couldn't blame her, because Garmadon was pulling some of the most ridiculous behavior since his time as an overlord.

One hand held a fork tangled with several strands of spaghetti that had lost its steam. The other held a sheet of paper, one Lloyd feared was a list of what sounded like horrible, all his—no, _Kai's_ —fault pickup lines.

"Hello honey," Garmadon donned a face he must have thought was a smolder, "Are you a potato? Because you sure are sweet."

A pause.

"You're a sweet potato...is what I meant to say. Let me—Let me try another one."

There were many times where Lloyd felt like he was dying, but this was perhaps the most painful time. His poor mother...his poor father! How had he managed to mess this up so badly?

"Are you an omelet? Because you're making me egg-cited!" Garmadon ended this line with a hearty chuckle, even going as far as to give the table a good-natured slap.

Misako opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry, hold on," said Garmadon, a brief look of panic crossing his face, "I've got better ones, I swear!" he frantically scanned the list before blurting: "Hello, honey! Do you want to know what my gi is made of?"

Misako rolled her lips over themselves, before settling with a quiet, "Sure."

"It's boyfriend material."

Lloyd wanted to die. The silence that followed didn't help deterring that wish, either.

After a moment far too long, Misako leaned forward and took both of Garmadon's hands in hers. "Sweetheart," she said, "What are you doing?"

His father just stared at her hands before saying with the heaviest sigh he'd ever heaved, "I don't know."

Lloyd was going to kill Kai. Or himself. One of the two.

His mother chuckled, "What is all this?"

"I don't know that, either," said Garmadon, "I just wanted to give you a nice, romantic evening...but I think I did the exact opposite," he sighed again, and Lloyd began yanking at some of his bangs, "Everything was going to be perfect; I made some dishes I knew you'd like; I got you some lovely artichokes, and I even pulled out that swing record we used to dance to. Do you remember how we danced until our feet were sore? I thought we could do that again."

The more his father rambled, the more Lloyd felt his insides crumbling out of existence. How could he have messed up this bad? Out of sick fascination, he stayed, wondering what other havoc his work would wreak.

"What happened?" Misako sounded as though she was trying not to laugh—an odd tone to take, Lloyd thought.

"I thought that maybe your tastes had changed," his father said, forlorn, "Lloyd made a comment—" he frowned, " _Lloyd."_

From his hiding spot, Lloyd gulped.

"I'm going to ground that boy until he's forty!"

Misako laughed.

"He made me doubt myself! He doesn't know anything about romance, anyway!"

"Oh," Misako continued to chuckle, giving Garmadon's hand a squeeze, "He only wanted to help, dear. From what I understand, he was going off of what his friend told him."

Garmadon stiffened, "Which friend?"

Innocent to the tone, Misako said, "Kai. He was telling me about it at the archives. For whatever reason, I thought that Lloyd was the one that had a date."

Garmadon dropped his gaze to a distant spot on the floor, eyes open in what could only be horror, "I took romantic advice from Kai?"

Lloyd began biting at his nails.

"I can't believe this," Garmadon sounded so flabbergasted that Lloyd had to agree when his mother began to laugh again, "I—I'm—Kai's grounded too!" his father said this with a sense of finality, though Lloyd somehow knew that this was an empty threat, said more out of a need to fill the air than out of true anger.

Evidently, his mother thought the same, because she smiled, saying with a twinkle in her eye, "There's no need to be drastic, dear. In fact, I would thank our boys; I'm flattered that you've done all this for me."

Both Lloyd and Garmadon looked up at that.

"This was sweet; please don't worry about ruining my evening," said she, "and the night is young. I know we'll have plenty of time to pull out that swing record. I can't promise I'll dance as long as I used to, though."

A smile brightened his father's face, and Lloyd held his hands in his hair, unbelieving of the turn of events happening before him.

"And if you're still feeling smart," Misako stood, pulling her husband up with her, "I'll be happy to accept those artichokes. I promise you it's been years since anyone has presented me with those."

Garmadon still looked as though he wanted to be annoyed, or at least complain about the trouble his son had caused, but as he continued to stare at Misako's smiling face, whatever contempt or embarrassment he held melted away in favor of a far more loving expression.

"Well, in that case," he offered his elbow, less rambunctiously this time.

Mouth open in amazement, Lloyd watched as his parents left for the kitchen, where he knew the artichokes still sat on the counter. As he stayed for a few moments longer, he heard the sounds of laughter and amiable conversation escape the room, already a far cry from what it had been before.

He left shell shocked, unable to believe that his mess had somehow worked itself out. In fact, it had given birth to what was sounding like the beginnings of a rather pleasant date.

A distant part of him said that he should take some of the credit for that, but he squished that feeling down. He'd no doubt that his father was going to give him a firm talking-to the following morning, or whenever it was just the two of them hanging out. A talk he would never hear the end of.

The laughter continued well into the night, amidst the sounds of lively swing. Lloyd listened for a while, enjoying his parents' happiness. By the time he retired for the night, he decided that whatever trouble he had caused, whatever trouble he would be in the following day, that it had been worth it.

* * *

 **I'd actually intended a different story to be updated here, but by dumb luck it got deleted (along with two important essays, but I digress). I hope you enjoyed the replacement.**

 **The song that Garmadon was singing is a real song, and it's called _There's Plenty of Gin,_ if any of you care to give it a listen. For some reason, Garmadon always makes me think of this song, and I've yet to find a reason why. _Don't Scare Me Papa_ is also a real jazz song, one that was based off of some rather unfortunate (but true!) events. It's a fun listen as well. Neither of these songs should exist in Ninjago, but for the sake of story I wrote them in anyway.**

 **Anyways, thank you for reading! Your support means the world to me!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I own nothing but the story.**

* * *

"He looks pink today."

From the bed, Garmadon glanced up, tossing lengthening hair over his back. Misako stood over a dressed laundry basket meant to serve as their baby's bassinet, greying hair illuminated under the morning sunlight poking through the room's only window. She was attempting to rock the little basket, trying to soothe their fussing son without jostling him too much.

There was a perplexed frown on her face, one that hadn't left since she brought Lloyd home, away from doctors who could answer all of her questions. _Was she holding him correctly? Had he all the shots he needed? Would she be a good mother? Would she be a good mother?_ Pausing in his task of rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Garmadon sat forward, resting his elbows onto his knees.

"Pink as in sick, dear?"

He immediately regretted asking the question when Misako snapped a wide-eyed stare in his direction.

"You don't suppose he is, do you?"

Garmadon stood, holding out his hands as he walked towards little Lloyd. The baby in the laundry bassinet, having calmed under the care of his mother, smiled up at him, raising a small fist as he gurgled. It was impossible not to return such an endearing expression, and he had to resist the urge to take the little fist into his own, fantastically large hand.

"He looks fine, Misako," said he, grinning as he poked his tongue out at his little boy.

Lloyd giggled, drool sliding over his chin. Misako wasn't put at ease, however.

"Most babies don't look this pink in the cheeks. It could be fever," she said, using the blanket to mop up the excess spit.

"Are you kidding?" Garmadon stood and put an arm around her shoulders, hoping to still her fiddling hands, "All babies look a little odd when they're young. Remember Maya's firstborn?" he turned his head so she wouldn't see him smile, "That boy was both red and bald for two months before he looked anything close to human."

"Garmadon," Misako finally turned to him, patting him in a small attempt at a fuss.

He backed off, but refused to deny his statement, "It's true, dear! No baby ever looks normal," he smiled again at little Lloyd, "He's going to be fine."

Misako rested her hands against the sides of the basket, her lips pursed. Garmadon carded a careless hand through her hair, smoothing loose strands behind her ear.

She'd returned from the hospital only two weeks earlier, and since then, she'd refused to let him braid her hair, refused to let Lloyd leave her sight, refused to stop fussing over the child, making sure that she was doing everything right. Garmadon couldn't blame her; he'd been told that it was a mother's job to worry, but he wished that he could see her relax, let him do the worrying for a while.

"We're doing fine, dear," he pulled her close, planting a kiss on top of her head. "Why don't you get some rest? I'll stay with him awhile."

Misako turned to stare at him again, and there was something odd in her expression, enough to make him bring down his hands, stand back. There was a look in her eye that struck an upsetting cord within him, but with a blink, the look was gone, and a small smile took its place.

"You know how I worry," she said, her voice soft.

A brief second passed before Garmadon chuckled. He certainly did.

Misako looked back towards Lloyd, calmer, now, and smoothed a few tiny wisps of blond hair back from his forehead. Garmadon smiled.

"He's going to be extraordinary," said he, sure of it. Positive, in fact.

Misako hummed a small laugh, "All parents believe that."

"I know it, though," he said, "Trust me, dear, I've got excellent premonition."

This fact wasn't true. Garmadon's premonition was little more than an unsettling feeling deep in his gut, but he had a different feeling about Lloyd. A good feeling.

His boy was going to be great.

Even though he, at the moment, had his entire foot shoved carelessly into his mouth.

Misako ran her hands along the sides of the basket, and Garmadon was pleased to see that the frown was now absent from her face. He stayed at her side long enough for a smile to appear before he walked over to the dresser and began rummaging for a comb. Tending to a baby made for sleepless nights, and for an ungodly head of hair.

"What do you think his first word will be?"

The question was spoken like a whisper. Garmadon had to turn to hear it again.

"Hm?"

"I hope it's Momma," she turned to smile at him, almost teasing, "Papa works, too, but Momma rolls off the tongue better."

Garmadon chuckled. He hadn't really thought about it, nor had he cared, if he was being frank. He just wanted a healthy, happy child. One that grew up to do great things, good things, one that he wouldn't ruin with his…condition.

Shaking his head, he said, "I haven't a preferred word, I think."

Misako frowned, "Nothing? Not even an idea?"

Garmadon shrugged, "If you're really asking," he said, "I think the word 'legerdemain' would be nice."

Misako paused, looking up at him in disbelief. "What?"

"It's a word," said Garmadon, freezing to turn, "I want to have a story that will blow Ray's out of the water."

The corners of Misako's mouth twitched, unsure if they wanted to smile or frown in exasperation, "What story?"

"He keeps insisting that his daughter's first word was 'kyoodle'," said Garmadon, turning back to comb his hair, "That's a word, too. I had to look it up," he shook his head at the memory, still upset that he had to do such a thing, "It means to cry or wail, like a dog, you see?"

Misako chuckled, "Well, I think Lloyd's chances of saying that are a bit slim."

"A man can dream, can't he?"

He didn't need to, not really, especially after Lloyd fussed again and Misako took him out to nurse him. He was at her side in a moment, brushing her long hair back once again as the both of them looked at their son.

Misako had a small smile on her face this time, and Garmadon pressed a kiss to her cheek.

He didn't need to dream, not anymore.

For the first time in his life, he had everything he wanted.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, and following this story. You guys are the greatest.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A _Do Tell_ reject titled, "Regret." I do not own Ninjago.**

* * *

He has a distinct image of his brother sitting out on a covered balcony, one arm propped over the railing, a bouquet of azaleas gripped loosely in his hand, a breath from falling. He remembers it well, if only for the look on his face. Sharp eyes stare out at the world, pointed, but vacant. Wu doesn't ask for Garmadon's company, but Garmadon was never one to ask for permission.

The balcony is small, just high enough to give a fair view of the bustling street below. In the distance, Garmadon can see where the desert and sky melt together through the waves of heat, but Wu isn't looking at that. He isn't looking at anything.

"Problem?" he asks, out of curtesy rather than true intent. He knows exactly what the problem is.

Wu stares, glares, then tightens his grip around the crooked stems.

Garmadon sighs, leaning against the balcony so that his back faces the street. It's simpler in the shade. "I know you're angry," he says, a confession disguised as an observation.

Wu snorts, blinking for the first time in minutes as he brings his gaze to his hand, then his lap. "I do not wish to discuss it," he mutters, dark.

Garmadon refrains from rolling his eyes. "Yeah, you do," says he. At the side of him Wu can't see, his fingers start to dance.

Wu huffs, and is silent. Garmadon looks up, eyeing a cobweb in a corner while his brother pulls himself together. He knows why he is angry.

"Misako has informed me that I need no longer woo her."

Garmadon stifles a noise at his brother's unintentional pun. He might be a cruel person, but he didn't come here to annoy his brother.

"Yes," he states. If Wu was expecting an apology, he wasn't going to get it.

"I just—" Wu drew his lips into a line, "I wish I knew why."

Garmadon knew. "She didn't tell you?"

"She said she was in love with you," the last word comes out differently; angry, disgusted.

Garmadon would be mad on another day, but he has other ways of making his brother penitent. "You think I do not deserve her love?"

Wu reddens, flounders. "No—I—" he swallows, hard, "I gave that woman my heart and soul! I put everything on the line for her!"

"And I didn't?" Garmadon bites. He looks away, not guilty—no, no.

The question does its job in shutting his brother up, but Garmadon wasn't just here to do that. In fact, he wasn't sure exactly why he was there; he'd signed his brother's letter months ago now, and he'd no intentions of apologizing, no reason to pry into his brother's business.

Years later, he suspects that it was a special act of cruelty.

"Look," he says, giving the arm propped on the railing a pat, "sometimes we wish to walk a certain path, and life pushes us in another direction. Whether you wish to keep walking or to lie down and rot is up to you."

An airy response, but Garmadon hopes—vaguely—that it is philosophical enough for Wu's tastes.

His brother sits, closes his eyes and frowns. He's in pain, Garmadon thinks; he's heartbroken and angry. The hand that holds the azaleas tightens to a fist, clenching until white bands wrap around his knuckles. Garmadon watches as a myriad of emotions cross Wu's face, each vanishing the moment they appear.

Then, silently, Wu lets go.

Wilted azaleas land in a clump against the dirt, and Wu stands. The look he gives Garmadon on his way back inside isn't friendly, but he doesn't care.

Didn't care. Maybe now, but not then. He'd won.

Garmadon sits against the railing, staring over his shoulder at the fallen bouquet that might have once made a difference in Misako's eyes, in this game the three of them played. Maybe it still does.

It's something of a sight for him. That bouquet was the culmination of a lot of pain, for once, none of it his, and he doesn't regret a thing.

All this pain, and Garmadon doesn't regret a thing.

* * *

 **I'm not going to lie; I wasn't sure what to do with this one. I kind of wanted to trash it, but I've trashed most of the Garmabros stuff I've written, and this one was the only okay one, I guess. I hope you all enjoyed, anyway.**

 **I don't say this as much as I should, but I really appreciate each and every one of you for reading, reviewing, and following the stories I post here. You guys know how to make a poor writer feel good. :) Thank you all so much. Have a fantastic day!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Ninjago.**

* * *

Misako's day takes a turn for the worst when Lloyd shows up around noon with a dastardly idea and a grin that could curdle cheese. What happens next is horrifying, but she's no one to blame but herself.

The autumn air is crisp and cool that morning, a gentle breeze carrying a kiss of winter to give it sweetness. Otherwise, the temperature is comfortable, enough that Misako gets an idea.

"How do you boys feel about a family outing?" she poses over breakfast.

Garmadon and Lloyd sport matching bedheads as they chew through peppered eggs, and Wu stands near her at the counter, drinking tea. All three of them look up in question.

"Today?"

"Where?"

"Can the ninja come?"

Lloyd asks the last question before Misako can ask where they want to go, but Wu chimes in, "Are you asking for a day of play?"

"Sure," Misako says, "Something fun for us to do together; go to the beach, a zoo, a museum."

She hangs hard on that last suggestion, but Garmadon mentions something about a park.

"Mega Monster's Amusement Park," he says, "I've never been."

"You'll love it, Dad," smiles Lloyd, "it's got all sorts of great stuff."

"And the cotton candy is to die for," adds Wu, smiling.

"Cotton candy is for old men," says Garmadon with a frown, but he doesn't dismiss the idea.

In fact, they've all warmed up to it faster than Misako can even think, and before she knows it, she's at the wheel of the van as she drives her family, ninja now included, towards this amusement park, a place where anything can happen, she's told.

The outing isn't exactly what she had in mind (because bustling through crowds upon crowds of people was not her idea of fun), but Misako enjoys herself as she spends the morning with her husband. Though he eyes the roller coasters where the screams echo loudest, she steers him towards the ferris wheel, which they ride twice, and carnival like games, where he wins her a stuffed parakeet, and she wins him a stuffed rhino, a pair of salt-shakers, and a Fritz Donnegan figurine.

"Now I can admire Gordan's jawline whenever I want," he teases, and Misako laughs.

By noon, they've hardly spent any time with their son, which is what Misako wanted most out of the day, but that changes in due time.

Her day makes a fateful turn when she complains of blisters on her feet, and Garmadon leaves her on a bench.

"I'll get you some water and some lunch," he promises while she rubs her heel beneath her sandals, "I'll show this nacho vendor here what a _real_ purchase looks like. What do you say?"

"Fine by me, dear," she bends back her visor and smooths her bangs into her hair, "Don't have too much fun."

Garmadon leaves with a chuckle, and she's left to take in her surroundings. The park is loud and busy, full of screaming children, both on and off rides. Lines everywhere are horrendous, and Garmadon is gone for fifteen minutes when Misako's day goes downhill.

The turn comes with the arrival of her son, a welcome visitor, but a suspicious one. He's got a grin on his normally sweet face that she recognizes from her husband, the kind that says, _I've put rubber cement right where you're sitting, and there's nothing you can do about it._

Misako's hackles are instantly on the rise, but Lloyd's voice betrays nothing as he greets:

"Hey Mom! Having fun?"

"I should ask you the same thing, sweetheart," she scans her son as she smiles at him, but she can't detect anything sinister yet, "How's the park? Your friends enjoying themselves?"

"Yeah," Lloyd sits next to her, still grinning devilishly, "We just found the best ride, and I think you should come ride it with me."

Normally, Misako would jump at the chance, but she is incredibly suspicious now. "That so?"

"It'll be fun!" Lloyd gets up and tugs on the edge of her sleeve as he does so, still grinning as he says, "C'mon, Mom."

Reluctantly, Misako goes, still sore-footed and cagey. She hopes she'll be back before Garmadon is, but as Lloyd leads her towards the crowds, she loses hope.

He leads her past a large, frighteningly tall roller coaster that he doesn't even glance at, then past a ride simply titled, ' _Slingshot'._

Thankfully, he goes into neither of those lines. She's about to count her lucky stars when Lloyd stops in the line of another roller coaster, this one full of loops, sharp hills, and a drop below ninety degrees.

"Lloyd?" Misako questions as she looks around. There isn't another old woman in sight. Scratch that—there isn't a person over eighteen within the vicinity. " _Lloyd._ "

"Relax, Mom," despite the cheerful sunlight and the curse of babyface that makes it hard to take him seriously, Lloyd looks absolutely wicked, "It's going to be fun; I promise! Just look at the people on the ride!"

Misako looks up in time to see a cart of screaming children fly past—upside down and at a speed that gives her whiplash just looking at it. She isn't convinced. Lloyd seriously isn't thinking of putting _her_ on this ride, right? This isn't made for someone like her: grey haired and worried over the way her joints creak in the morning.

"Lloyd, I can't ride this," she says, making to step out of line.

"Why not?" Lloyd grins, "Scared?"

A well-aimed shot to the pride might work on his father, but not for her; Misako is a yellow bellied, lily-livered coward and proud of it. Unfortunately, it seems Lloyd knows this, because he switches tactics.

Donning a downright evil pair of puppy dog eyes, he says, "We've never done this before," and for good measure, "Please?"

That opens the door of a tender subject Lloyd's learned exactly how to exploit, and Misako still lies awake at night thinking of all that could've been.

So, ten minutes later finds Misako strapping herself next to her son at the head of the cart— _Reaper's Carriage,_ it's called.

Fun, indeed.

When an attendant, another teenager, walks by to check the security of the belts and buckles, she grabs his hand before he can move past.

"Check again," she says, just in case.

The teen rolls his eyes and Lloyd lets out an embarrassed, "Moooomm..." but the safety straps are secure, and Misako is going to take whatever comfort she can get.

It doesn't last long, regardless; _Reaper's Carriage_ starts with a jolt, rolling them forward so that they're lying on their backs as they crawl up a towering hill. Misako is regretting her decision to ride—she's regretting every decision she's ever made in her life, from the bad ones to simply sneaking one too many Oreos at night.

She's tucked her glasses into the pocket of her shirt, but she doesn't need them to see how high off the ground they are. The blurriness makes the earth seem miles below.

The climb takes forever, but Lloyd is still smiling. The evil nature seems momentarily clouded by genuine excitement, and that's enough to calm Misako for a moment.

This is what she wanted, right? A happy family, a happy son? The thought of Lloyd sitting here and laughing next to his friends makes her smile, just a little.

Then they reach the top of the hill. The track halts briefly, as though mocking the passengers for being trapped in this situation. Misako certainly feels like the butt of some joke. The track bends below them to the point where she can't even see it, before curling to take them upside down. Though the cold air is biting at them from all sides, Misako is clammy in her clothes. Adrenaline pours through her veins with the fury of rapids, leaving her shaking like she's never had before.

The irony of it is almost amusing. She's stared down evil husbands, stone warriors, and worse, and here she sits shaking like a dog.

They couldn't have stayed there for more than five seconds, but anticipation stretches it into eternity. Then Lloyd turns his grin to her, and she's aware of just what this is. It's not a ride; it's a punishment.

The cart ticks as the metal shifts. They're moving forward. Misako isn't ready.

Suddenly, as the weight leans far enough downhill, gravity takes over, and Misako's soul leaves her body. The cart moves at a speed faster than she's ever traveled, and suddenly, she's upside down as the cart takes them through loop after loop, hill after hill.

Misako has a nice set of lungs, she knows this, and she's sure the entire park knows it now, too. She screams, drowning out the sounds of everyone behind her, of her own son, who has the gall to laugh at his poor mother.

She's lost all sense of direction. Her bones have disintegrated; all that's left is a pair of legs and a muffin top, jiggling around like jelly, the seatbelt the only thing keeping her in place.

She wishes she'd never done this—that she'd never done anything, ever, in her life, but there's little she can do now but scream. Scream and grip her son's arm so tight it turns white.

"Mom—" she hears him say at one point in the ride, but his voice is drowned out by her own as they start going backwards.

She's convinced of it, now. This is punishment. She's racing towards damnation; _Reaper's Carriage_ is sending her to her doom.

The ride lasts a total of three minutes and forty-six seconds, and by the end of it, Misako feels like she's aged several hundred years. She's certain she walks off with more white hairs than when she walked on.

It stops suddenly. The cart moves through several accelerators, which slow it down before it comes to a complete stop. People cheer and laugh as they lift their seat belts. Misako herself can't seem to move. Common sense tells her to crawl onto the platform as fast as she can, but she finds that she's no strength to even lift a pinky. She's still convincing herself that she's still alive, that her heart is indeed beating in her chest.

She might have stayed there if Lloyd hadn't nudged her with his toe.

"C'mon Mom," Lloyd is struggling to hold back laughter, "It's time to go."

A distant voice in her mind begins to reason that the faster she gets off, the faster she can punish her son. With that thought, she picks herself up and hobbles off the ride with as much dignity as she can muster.

She's hoping it's enough to fool Lloyd, who reveals nothing as he says, "Wasn't that fun?" he grins at her as he says it, unaffected by the death machine.

He knew exactly what he was doing when he brought her to that ride; Misako shakes her head in exasperation. She's about to tell Lloyd exactly what she thinks of that ride, but someone catches her eye, and the words die in her throat.

It's Garmadon. He's standing next to the booth where one is supposed to purchase pictures from the ride. Misako's stomach bottoms out, but not because there's a chance he saw her face as they went down that first hill.

It's because he's wearing the same expression Lloyd was earlier. She guesses the last of the venom isn't truly gone.

"I—uh," Garmadon's shoulders shake with silent laughter that he tries to keep out of his voice, "I was wondering where you went!" He takes her clammy hand with both of his own, and Misako is thankful for the sturdiness it provides.

"I took Mom on the wildest ride in the park!" pipes Lloyd, excited.

"I heard!" Garmadon lets a chuckle escape, and Misako doesn't care for that call out at _all_. "You two look like you had a lot of fun!"

Lloyd nods, practically shaking with childlike glee, "I've ridden that roller coaster twelve times today!"

Misako might have fainted if she weren't so strong and composed. Twelve times. She would simply die. And what a headline that would make. Wife of a warlord, mother of Ninjago's savior, respected teacher: killed by a suicide machine.

She doesn't realize she's zoned out of the conversation until she hears Garmadon say, "I would love to ride! But only if your mother is there with me."

Her blood chills as she jerks a stare towards him, "Excuse me?"

"The roller coaster," Garmadon says, voice smooth and saccharine, "You look like you had such fun riding it. We have to do it again."

He's smiling; Lloyd's smiling. They're a tag team against her, united in their mutual desire to make her pay for all those absent years.

"I don't know," she says, "I was hoping we could catch the _Slingshot_ before it got dark." Because anything would be better than riding _Reaper's Carriage_ again. She tries sending Garmadon silent signals through a well-timed stare, but they either sail over his head or he sends them that way himself, because Misako is left little choice but to either lose what's left of her dignity or accept a round two.

As appealing as the first option is, the idea of disappointing her husband and son seems worse. So, with a heavy heart and weak knees, she finds herself strapping into the ride again, this time in between her family members. She takes one hand from each of them as they climb the first hill, and they're kind enough to gently squeeze back.

She isn't sure if knowing what to expect makes this experience worse or better than the last ride, but all the same, she isn't prepared for the first hill, the sheer speed at which the ride yanks them along. This time, she's at least the relief of distracting herself with planning her own funeral (and, gleefully and guiltily, those of her husband and son), but the ride still lasts an eternity.

By the end of it, she's all but crawling off the ride, shaking so bad she's surprised her knees aren't knocking together. Never has she fit the definition of 'old crone' so perfectly. She is an old woman, cantankerous and frail.

Garmadon gives her a kiss on the cheek as he steadies her uneven strut with an arm around the shoulders, but Misako mourns the woman she's become. When she was younger, she could take this sort of abuse with pride and even enthusiasm, and now she walks with wobbly joints and arms slightly ajar to reclaim the sense of balance she lost to the ride.

That's when she feels Lloyd put his arms around her in a hug that hurts. Misako looks down in question.

Lloyd is smiling at her with all the sweetness she's come to expect from him. "Good job, Mom," he says, voice brimming with pride.

He soon leaves afterwards, when Kai arrives and exclaims that they've found a ride even worse than _Reaper's Carriage_. Garmadon is kind enough to lead her in the opposite direction, settling both of them down on the bench Misako had so foolishly abandoned. Garmadon gives her gum to chew while she recovers.

She doesn't ride anything else that day, but as far she's concerned, this family outing is a success.

"Good job, Mom," repeats itself over and over in her mind, and despite the nausea and the headache, Misako smiles.

* * *

 **Me: *has over a dozen WIPs that need to be updated/published***

 **Also me: What if I put Misako on a roller coaster?**

 **I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Computer issues prevented me from updating/writing anything over the past month, so the next few weeks will be screwy as far as content goes. I do not own Ninjago.**

* * *

The final straw is a statement from Kai, but it started with a question.

Lloyd was a Darkley's student for a long time, longer than most students. When he was eight, he remembers a professor walking and talking him through the narrow hallways towards a portrait he'd passed nearly every day on his way to class.

It depicted a dark figure with fiery red eyes and long fingers looming over a crowd of terrorized, faceless people. The painting was vague, more feeling than image, wild with brush strokes and prominent shape over outline. It was a far cry from the detailed portraits of other famed villains scattered throughout the rest of the school.

The professor was a spindly man with cold hands and a raspy voice, which droned on and on about Lloyd's heritage, something he never gave much thought. Apparently, Lloyd has potential, and a lot of it. Evil's very definition runs through his veins.

And this professor knew all about that.

"Your father is a very important man," said the professor, stopping and facing the portrait, "He desires to rule over all of Ninjago."

Lloyd stared up at the portrait. He'd seen others like it before; none of them ever showed his father's face. Lloyd thought at the time that the artists kept forgetting what his father looked like.

"What about you?" said the professor, looking at him from down his nose, "Do you have such...ambitions?"

What he really meant to ask was whether Lloyd was just like his father. Lloyd didn't know then, and he doesn't know now. It seems everyone knows about his father except for him, and that's what leads to the final straw.

Lloyd has heard many things over the years, from Darkley's students to people on the street that he's never known and never will know.

"You look nothing like your father," a snot-nosed dweeb would say while staring at him, his upper lip turned up in disgust. Then he'd follow it up with some insult, like, "You're positively baby-faced," and Lloyd would sock him in the stomach.

"Don't give that little brat food!" a woman would tell her doe-eyed daughter, "You have any idea who that is?"

"That's Garmadon's kid," Lloyd would hear again and again, "Nothing but trouble brewing in that one."

Lloyd is just like or not like his father, but he doesn't know much about his father. All he has are questions and statements heard over the years, and the angry eyes of that dark and looming portrait, burning hatefully through his soul.

The last straw is a statement from Kai.

The day is already a frustrating one. It's been a month since he's started living with the ninja, and he's still not a part of this family. They say he is, but he sticks out like a belch in a symphony. His behavior isn't right, and his training is not up to speed.

"You should know how to defend yourself," Wu explained when he first proposed the idea, "I won't have my nephew getting into trouble, now."

The first thing Wu did wrong is suggest that Lloyd will somehow stay out of trouble; the second is imply that Lloyd doesn't know how to defend himself.

Lloyd gets along just fine, but the ninja want to teach him to fight smarter. His rough and tumble way of doing so just doesn't cut it for this family, as he learns today.

"Ow!" Jay releases him from a tough, but not too tough, headlock, and Lloyd squirms away from their mock-fight.

It's their twelfth drill, and Lloyd has yet to adequately please his four teachers.

"What now?" Cole gripes from the Bounty's mast, where he stands with his arms folded.

The day is hot, everyone is cranky, and Lloyd is insufferable.

 _As usual,_ Lloyd thinks with a glare he directs at no one in particular.

Jay clutches his hand, teeth set in anger. "The little creep bit me!"

Lloyd rubs at his nose where it starts to run and scowls at Jay. They're supposed to be friends, but they don't quite click yet, despite liking a lot of the same things. None of them click.

"You had him too loose," says Cole, "Did it break the skin?"

"I don't think so," Jay looks over the mark carefully.

"Well, wash it off. We'll try again."

"Lloyd," says Zane. He's watching with Kai from beneath the overhang. "That's not the correct way to escape that hold."

Lloyd huffs. He's hot in his hoodie and wants desperately to be inside, playing video games or reading comics. Anything other than running drill after drill with people who still seem strange to him.

"It worked, didn't it?" he says, folding his arms.

"It won't work every time," says Zane, patient, "Nor is it efficient. What happens if you lose a tooth?"

"It'll grow back," says Lloyd, though he likes to brag that all his adult teeth are already in, "and it's worked every time so far."

"How about this?" Kai jumps in, "You bite someone, and they don't let go. You bite someone and they rip out more than a few teeth as they yank their arm away."

Lloyd doesn't have an answer, not that he's given any time to, because Cole jumps in.

"That's why we learn the correct way to break a hold," Cole steps forward and turns Lloyd by the shoulders to face him, "It'll get easier with practice. Let's try it again."

Lloyd doesn't want to, and Cole is so much bigger than him. He's like a giant, and just as dumb, Lloyd thinks.

Lloyd tries biting again once the headlock becomes uncomfortable, but Cole sees it coming and shifts his arms. He can't move his head at all, and is left squirming uselessly on the deck while his face turns bright red.

It's embarrassing. Cole is asking a lot from him.

"Recall your training," he says, "How do you get out of this?"

But Lloyd doesn't know what he's talking about; he can hardly hear him through the ringing in his ears.

Eventually, with nothing else to do, Lloyd does the last thing he can think of: he spits.

It's a gross wad of phlegm and saliva that spills out of his mouth, a size that he'd be proud of on any other day. It gets on Cole's arm and his face, as well as a few unlucky strands of black hair that hang in the crossfire.

Cole freezes up at first, but he lets Lloyd go, face scrunched.

Jay laughs from beneath the overhang, and Kai claps his hands. Zane just grimaces, tight-lipped.

Lloyd sits up and glares at Cole through watering eyes. He rubs at his chin with his sleeve, which smells of sweat and funk.

"At least your hold was correct!" Jay jeers through his chuckles.

Cole frowns at Lloyd, making no move to get up.

Lloyd just crosses his arms. "Told ya. The way I fight works just fine."

He's shaking with adrenaline and anger, and he wishes he was inside, curled up in a lonely corner reading a comic. Doing anything but standing out here, under the scrutiny of people he doesn't know.

"That was dirty, Lloyd," Cole eventually says, "And sloppy. You're better than that."

He looks almost disappointed as he rubs his cheek against his sleeve. The saliva glitters in the black fabric.

"You'll have to be," Jay adds once he's calmed down, "if you want to live."

"What is going on today, Lloyd?" Zane asks.

Apparently, he's better than this, because everyone knows about Lloyd. He opens his mouth to retort, but Kai finally buts in, saying:

"Cut the kid some slack, will you?" he slouches in his spot as he crosses his legs, "It's just his Garmadon genes leaking through. He can't help but fight dirty every once in a while."

Something inside of Lloyd snaps, and the halves splinter as he runs into the cabin, refusing to look back. He wants to run far away from here, to a place where no one knows his name, but there's only so far one can go on the Bounty.

He winds up in a closet, next to the mops. It smells of mildew and misery, and Lloyd is content to wallow there for the next few hours.

Which he does, because the ninja are kind enough not to disturb him.

His uncle Wu isn't.

Three hours later, his belly reminds him that it's supper time, and a knock sounds on the door.

"Lloyd?" says Wu, opening the door just a crack, "Are you alright?"

Lloyd pouts reproachfully at his shoes, feeling no better about his existence.

The door opens further, and Wu's head appears. "Would you like some company?" Wu says with a smile, "I brought tea and peppermints."

Peppermints are the worst type of candy and Lloyd will proudly hate tea until the day he dies, but it's not like he can say no to sweets. He tells himself that's the reason he lets Wu open the door all the way.

"I don't suppose I can interest you in moving somewhere more comfortable?" Wu tries as he pulls a bucket out to sit on.

Lloyd doesn't reply, and Wu nods.

Sitting with a grunt, Wu chuckles, "The older I get, the lower the floor gets."

He drops a handful of peppermints into Lloyd's hands and proceeds to pour himself a cup of tea.

"I understand we had some trouble during training today?"

 _We,_ Lloyd thinks in disdain, like this is an issue that Wu is an active part of.

"It happens," Wu continues, "I take it you're frustrated."

Frustrated isn't the word Lloyd would use; he'd say something more along the lines of 'puce'. An ugly color for an ugly feeling that is one letter away from puke.

"I've spoken to the boys," says Wu, "They say they worked you too hard. I'd like your side of the story, if you're up for telling."

As he sips his tea, he gives Lloyd this look; Lloyd knows it well. It's the kind of look that says he knows all your secrets, and everyone on the Bounty has received it at least once.

Frankly, Lloyd doesn't know what secrets he would have, but he isn't up for telling. It isn't even the incident on the deck that bothers him; it's everything around it. It's the professor, the students, the villagers, people, his father, his uncle, his _friends._

Everyone expects something from him, but Lloyd doesn't know what it is.

Wu is still sitting there, sipping his tea like he's ready to wait an eternity for an answer. It's something he does a lot. In fact, Lloyd wouldn't be surprised if he was still waiting for answers to questions asked long, long ago.

Lloyd stares at a hole in his sneakers and asks, "What was Dad like?"

Wu goes very still. "Why do you ask?"

"Everyone knows about him except me. They say I'm like him, then they'll say I'm not like him. I wanna know which. I wanna know what he was like," Lloyd looks at his uncle's face, "He must have been someone real..."

Important. Great. Terrible. He's heard many things over the years. Lloyd isn't sure which word he falls under, but the ninja are, as are the professor, the students, villagers, people...

"Lloyd," Wu chuckles into his cup, which hovers halfway between his lap and his mouth, "What a question."

And that's hardly an answer. Lloyd scowls and glares at the grooves along the floorboards. They twist in jagged lines, like his thoughts. Lloyd isn't going to say anything until he gets his answer, his frustration sinking dangerously close to full-blown rage.

The silence stretches long while Wu stares into his cup. He's breathing kind of heavy, then he says, voice soft, "I hate to say this while you're upset, but your father was a lot like you."

Lloyd blinks. Frowns. His head hurts from the tension that's built up over the course of the day.

"He had a... a sweet tooth that would make a fairy cry," Wu starts to smile, slowly, "And the sharpest tongue of anyone I ever knew. Until I met you, of course," he chuckles.

"If he thought you were a yellow-bellied ninny, you would be the first to know," Wu continues, "He always had candy in his pockets. Cinnamon fireballs in one; cherryheads in the other. Which one you got depended on how well he liked you."

Lloyd stares at his uncle's face, wondering what could be so interesting about his tea that he should still be looking at it.

But he isn't looking at it. He's staring somewhere past it.

"He loved butterflies," says Wu, "He used to doodle them. On his scrolls, on his desk, his diary. They had big wings and tiny little bodies, and he always drew them mid-flight. You couldn't find one perched on a flower, or a tree. They were full of life and spirit. Just like your father."

He finally looks up. "Just like you, Lloyd."

Lloyd is silent. Of the answers he expected, this isn't it. It's unlike anything he's ever heard before, and after years of insults and dismissive comments, the details seem mundane for someone named Garmadon. Certainly nothing to make a fuss about.

"Do you like butterflies?" Wu asks, softly.

What he means to ask is if Lloyd is just like his father.

Well... "No."

Butterflies scare him, and so do moths, for that matter. They can fly wherever they want, and yet they choose to fly towards his face with their big wings and rapid movements—

"What do you like?"

Lloyd thinks. That's a question he's never been asked before, and it catches him by surprise.

"I like comics," he eventually says, "I like adventure."

Wu smiles at him.

"And I like sweets," Lloyd glances up, "Dad liked them too, huh?"

"He'd spend hours in the bakery admiring the desserts. He liked the cinnamon rolls best."

"Hm," Lloyd purses his lips, "I like chocolates better. Especially truffles and fudge."

Still, a father like that. A father like that he might just like being compared to.

Might. Maybe if—or, after—he finds out what he looks like. Maybe a father like that is cursed with baby cheeks, too.

Wu has something fond in his eyes as he utters his next words, "I'll have another talk with the ninja. From now on, all they'll expect from you, is you."

Lloyd nods, a weight lifting off his shoulders. Wu smiles. "Alright," he says, standing, "Now, how about we mosey out of here. I can't imagine you enjoy the smell."

No, Lloyd doesn't, but it smells no worse than he does. The afternoon has not been well; he might even brave a bath to wash the stench of misery away. All the same, he's hungry, and he's tired of sulking. Getting to his feet, he follows his uncle out, taking his hand as they make their way to the kitchen.

It smells of Cole's chili, but afterwards, Wu promises him dessert.

"Something chocolate," says Wu.

* * *

 **The time away from writing was spent re-watching Ninjago. Some of those seasons I haven't seen since they aired! I actually learned some pretty important things (which I will share, because why not):**

 **1) Garmadon worries about his weight.**

 **2) Lloyd drinks straight from rivers like a dog.**

 **3) Wu rarely (if ever) offers constructive advice when the ninja are actually in a crisis. Instead he parrots these vague virtues that the ninja are thankfully smart enough to construe into something useful.**

 **There is more, but this note is already too long. Anyways, thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, and following this story! You guys are the best, and truly a pleasure to write for! Have a wonderful day!**


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